Page 119 of Ride the Wave

Finally, I spot her.

In an elegant, long-sleeved, black gown and a statement diamond necklace, Michelle Martin is holding court in a conversation with two middle-aged men, holding a glass of champagne and clearly in the middle of a story, in which her audience is enraptured. Her golden-blonde hair is expertly curled, her brown eyes accentuated with liquid eyeliner, and she oozes confidence and self-importance. You could never have heard of her but one glance and you’d know thatthisis somebody.

Leo follows my eyeline and tenses. His spine straightens, his shoulders rolling back as though he’s standing to attention. A fierce protectiveness rages through me as I witness his reaction. Suddenly, it’s not important if his mum pays attention to me or not – but she better pay some fucking attention to her son.

It takes her a few moments but eventually, she glances in our direction and double takes. She acknowledges Leo with a thin-lipped smile, holding up one of her fingers to signal she’ll be over in a minute. She takes her time to finish her current conversation and then turns away from us to signal for someone to come over. A man all in black with a headset appears at her side and she says something to him, whilst gesturing in our direction. Glancing our way, his eyes light up and he nods eagerly. He says something into his headset. Michelle doesn’t move, taking a sip of her champagne, surveying her guests.

I’m confused. She definitely saw Leo and she’s no longer distracted by a different conversation, so I wonder what she’s waiting for. I thought Leo said they hadn’t seen each other in a long time; I’d have thought she’d be a little bit more… eager.

Then it all makes sense. The documentary camera crew appear at her side, having had to jostle their way through the guests. The man in the headset gives them instructions and then turns to Michelle with a short, sharp nod. A go-ahead nod.

Finally, she swans over to us.

Christ.

‘Leo, you made it, how lovely,’ she says, giving him a kiss on the cheek and standing back to look at him properly. ‘On timeanddressed for the occasion.’ Her eyebrows lift in surprise. ‘Goodness. I applaud you.’

It’s an odd greeting, and I can’t work out if it’s the sort of affectionately teasing thing a mother would say to her useless-but-loveable son, or if it’s a sting. It’s hard to tell due to the complete lack of emotion in her tone. With one cameraman in position at an angle behind her to capture us, another roams around behind us, pulling focus on the leading lady.

‘Ignore the prying lenses,’ she adds, her weak smile fixed. ‘They’re only here for visuals at the moment. The only audio they’ll use from tonight will be my speech later on, so you can speak freely.’

‘Great. Well, thanks for the invitation, Mum,’ Leo says, sounding different to normal, his voice more clipped and formal. He’s on edge. I can’t tell if it’s because of the camera pointed directly at him or if it’s because of her.

‘It’s good to see you,’ she says, her eyes shifting to me, a hint of a frown. ‘Please accept my apologies; I don’t think we’re acquainted.’

‘Iris Gray.’ I hold out my hand for her to shake. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ms Martin.’

She looks at me strangely before her eyes widen with recognition. ‘Iris Gray, the journalist?’

‘She’s the writer doing the feature on me forStudiomagazine,’ Leo jumps in, his hand twitching as he gestures to me, and I think he’s fighting the urge to put it round my waist. ‘I told your team that she’d be coming tonight. They didn’t tell you?’

‘We’ve had a lot going on today,’ she says, gesturing around her. She returns her attention to me. ‘I didn’t realise you were coming out to Australia too.’

‘Neither did I at first, but it seemed like a good idea to see the competition first-hand,’ I explain, before beaming up at Leo. ‘It was definitely worth the trip. He’s done brilliantly.’

‘Yes,’ she says, her eyes flickering between the two of us as Leo stares down at his shoes. She inhales deeply, giving him a tight smile. ‘I’ve heard you’re doing well. I know you have a… complicated relationship with Bells Beach. I’m glad to hear none of that is holding you back this time. I did wonder whether it might.’

Leo’s jaw ticks.

I clear my throat. ‘Tonight is a fantastic event,’ I say brightly, hoping to draw her focus back to me while Leo can have a moment to collect himself if he needs. ‘Congratulations on Bind Together For Our Oceans; it sounds like a wonderful project.’

‘Yes, I’ve always been passionate about generating a positive impact on vulnerable marine ecosystems, and I hope that my fund and support will help to encourage the use of sustainable solutions that work in harmony with those ecosystems,’ she reels off.

I know a well-practised soundbite when I hear one. It never ceases to amaze me how people in the public eye can say how ‘passionate’ they are about something whilst sounding not the least bit interested.

‘I wanted to launch it here in Australia because I wanted to give back to the community in which I was raised,’ she goes on, saying all the right things, her tone flat and meaningless, ‘and tonight is an opportunity to gather together the country’s leading business owners and philanthropists, all of whom are as dedicated to this project’s potential as I am.’

I respond through the most convincing smile I can muster. ‘It’s clearly a great success. Thank you for inviting us; it really is an honour to be here.’

‘Of course,’ she says, pausing for a moment before she adds, ‘Actually, I’mdelightedyou’re here tonight.’

Leo lifts his head, a glimmer of hope flitting across his face. At last, a hint of some emotion in her voice, a faint but sure giveaway that it means something to her that he’s here.

‘You’ll be able to work this into your feature, won’t you,’ she continues to me, not a glance at him. ‘I’d like the project to be mentioned; my publicist can send you the press release to make sure you have the facts correct, and any images you might need of course.’

It’s horrible to watch someone fighting the urge to deflate right in front of you. The way the creases on Leo’s forehead appear before they’re ousted in a flash, how his lips part momentarily only to be forced into an upwards tilt a moment later, the hurt that flickers in his eyes before it’s blinked away. God, I hate seeing him like this. It’s not fair. It’s not natural.

How can he be so dismissed?

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